


Will There Be Stars

by gaydaydreamer



Series: WTBS Extended Universe [1]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Pre-Canon, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 14:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19007440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaydaydreamer/pseuds/gaydaydreamer
Summary: “Some say, she never really left. That she’s only biding her time, waiting to exact her revenge. But those are only children’s tales, of course.”snapshots of growing up away from home





	Will There Be Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings about how Shadow Weaver’s backstory was handled.  
> (prequel-ish to my other story “Pins and Needles” please don’t read that one tho it’s fucked up)  
> Title is taken from the Blonde Redhead song of the same name and y'all should totally listen to it before/during reading this.

//

Mystacor is steeped in beauty, the kind of beauty that thirteen year old boys are so often blind to. Micah is ardently devoted to his sorcerer's education, and cannot be bothered with the breathtaking pink hues of the clouds at dusk, or the way moonlight stains the elaborate stonework gold and silver through the crown-topped window panes. Even the Hall of Sorcerers, where the towering likenesses of Mystacor’s greatest leaders left him awestruck the first time he’d traversed it, barely warrants a glance as he hurries through it to his next lesson. He cannot help but squirm in his seat when one of his professors explains a spell he has already mastered in excruciating detail, cannot resist showing off for Light Spinner-- his favorite teacher by far-- although he knows he will be scolded for his frequent disruptions. He is bored, and his fingers twitch restlessly with the sting of untapped power.

As soon as he is called into Light Spinner’s private study for the first time, Miach can feel the course of his tenure shift, knowing that she only works with the very best. In fact, he often overhears the 5th years whispering about how she hasn't had an apprentice since they started their schooling, and when and who she will devote her attention to is a source of much speculation. Whenever she tells him he is gifted, he glows with her praise, despite how often it is accompanied by admonishments of his work ethic. Micah feels  _seen_ by her, and is certain he will endure the boredom of basic lessons no longer, under her tutelage. Her only caveat is that he do exactly as she says, and eager to bask in the palpable warmth of her attention, he agrees. At thirteen, already expected to obey and trust authority figures without question, it does not feel like a risk to pledge himself to her so completely.

Micah visits Light Spinner almost every night after his formal lessons of the day have finished, and it pleases him endlessly to catch the looks of envy that follow him as he strides purposefully to her study. It isn’t long before she trusts him with his own key, and he wears it proudly around his neck, dangling from a gold chain. Most of her private lessons consist of lectures and demonstrations, but they are unlike anything in his regular classes-- conceptually difficult, the manifestations of energy significantly more complex, the movements and sigils requiring his full concentration to remember properly. He listens with rapt attention, mind expansive with the knowledge she imparts on him.

Some nights he arrives at her door vibrating with excitement for another lesson only to be turned away because she is too absorbed with her own research. He always offers his assistance, to which she declines with a weary sigh. His mind is sharp and his hands are nimble, but he lacks the necessary experience to be anything but a hindrance in these cases. Raw talent is no substitute for years of dedicated study, something she is fond of reminding him of whenever she notices his focus is lacking. Micah can’t help but sulk for the rest of the night, his pride bruised and his yearning to prove himself even more fervent. Whenever this happens, she will often make it up to him the next night by allowing him to participate in a casting. These are usually simple spells, designed to be a teaching tool more than anything, but they are still advanced enough to thrill him and make his teeth ache with the power he channels.

There are even rarer occasions, when Light Spinner locks the door behind him and draws the blinds, and on those days he knows he will be helping her because she legitimately needs the aid of another caster, and he is the only one she can trust to keep whatever they are doing a secret. Micah’s heart sings when these spells are successful and she looks at him, eyes shining with pride, and tells him how talented and dedicated he is.  _You are destined for greatness Micah,_ she says, squeezing his shoulder with firm, loving pressure,  _Mystacor is entirely yours for the taking._

//

The remaining Guild members can require him to see a counselor for the rest of spring term, but nobody can force him to talk about the nightmares. There are the short ones that lurk in the fringes of his consciousness when he is right on the precipice of sleep. Where letting his mind wander will lead him inevitably to that night, and through heavy eyelids he can see the undulating mass of malevolence begin to form on the ceiling. As soon as he catches sight of it his heart drops into his gut, and he thrashes himself awake, sitting upright in bed with the overhead light on until his breathing returns to normal. The longer nightmares occur less often, but are just as bone chilling, and they happen when he is far too ensnared in the throes of sleep to jolt awake at the first sign of something frightening. The dreams begin with different scenes-- a private lesson with the ochre afternoon light warming his back through the windows as he reads a scroll over Light Spinner's shoulder, or a casting demonstration in the courtyard where he squints up into the sun to better see the details of whatever light illusion she is weaving. But the light always dims, the shadows always slither from the corners of the room, whatever illusion she holds in the air turns virulent scarlet, and the uneasiness prickles along his spine as the once normal and joyful moments of his everyday life warp into strange and menacing facsimiles. Suddenly the form of his mentor dissolves and in her place, only devouring darkness, ready to claim him. In every dream, he is unable to run from it.

More often than not he awakes with fistfulls of bedsheets clenched between white knuckles, heart pounding and cheeks hot and damp. Later in the week, at his mandated counseling session, he will speak freely about the alienation he feels from his parents, his concern for his baby sister, and his anxieties about school. But he cannot begin to describe the wild look in Light Spinner's eyes as she filled the room with shadows that reeked of sulphur and were slick and cold as they wound around his limbs. He cannot put into words the terror he felt in her grasp, nor the guilt that remained when she spared him, leaving him trembling on the floor with nothing more than a caress on the cheek. It's stupid to think about it at all, to obsess over  _why_  when he knows an answer will never come. Even more pointless to share these thoughts with a stranger.

Light Spinner’s study still hasn’t been cleared of her things, and he finds it eerie to be there with everything exactly as she’d left it, but it is still the place his body carries him too automatically when he is desperate for peace. The stares of other students burn into his back in the common rooms and libraries. Whispers follow him down the halls, and peers that were once amicable keep their distance. Everyone seems to know that he was involved somehow, after all wasn’t he her protégé, the very best and brightest Mystacor had to offer her? Tears of indignation form in his eyes whenever he thinks about it, and the sheer fact that it bothers him so much just exacerbates his anger. Only when the door is closed and locked behind him does Micah allow himself to cry, filling the small musty room with his sobs.

Afterwards he cleans out all of her scrolls, burns every leather bound tome of notes, smashes all of the impeccably organized vials that lined her shelves. It takes hours to clear away everything, and he trashes it all without bothering to separate the contraband items from the legitimate ones. Finally, as the last vestiges of daylight drip below the horizon, it is finished. He slumps against the wall of the now-empty room, exhausted, with clouds of agitated dust motes ticking his nostrils and scratching his throat. The task has run him ragged, but his chest feels lighter for it.

It is late at night when he finally decides to return to his room, and he walks briskly through the Hall of Sorcerers, hating the way their blank eyes leer at him, and the sinister shapes the light makes against the bleached marble. It reminds him too much of shadows that writhed and danced above his head, and the ravenous way they subsumed his mentor. It devoured her from the inside out, and could have done the same to him. Her statue is the last in line, and the proudest. There was a proposal put forth to the Guild at some point to take it down, but too many were still fond of her. If they’d been there when it happened, they’d feel the same shudder of fear to look up at it. If they’d seen what the spell turned her into, they’d want her effigy gone as much as he does.

Micah glances down the deserted hallway, and then back up at the alabaster façade of her. As always, most of her face is obscured, but the emotion that shines through her eyes is hardly inscrutable. They gleam with a haughty, almost menacing mirth, daring him to deny that he’d been used for his talent and naiveté. And suddenly the fear is gone, there is only rage, crawling across his skin like static. His energy manifestations used to be a pristine blue, but ever since casting the spell of obtainment, they’ve been vibrant crimson. The buildup of magic sears his hands, and flares in broad, crackling arcs, filling every corner with that sanguine light. It could easily be seen through the row of tall windows behind him, but he doesn’t care. Nobody is awake to witness or prevent what he is about to do. Moreover, nobody would dare try to stop him mid-cast. Keeping his eyes open past a squint is painful, and his vision is blurred through hot tears, but his aim is true.

The sound of energy splitting the stone is as cacophonous as thunder, and he is giddy with the rapture of watching red sparks explode from the cracks and rain down on him. Embers pepper his skin in scalding kisses and his nostrils fill with the scent of burnt hair and acrid smoke. The glowing Guild sigil cradled in the statue’s upturned palm bursts in a radiant flare of light, and he wonders if this is what it feels like to witness the dying breath of a star. A source of radiance, now extinguished, leaving everything it once touched lifeless and gelid. The entire surface of Light Spinner’s statue is scorched, ruined, even more sinister than it was before. Yet Micah releases a long deep breath, finally satisfied. All of Mystacor will see her as he does, from now until the end of time.

//

When Micah begins his final year as a student, he is accompanied by his little sister, who has been listening to tales of Mystacor with rapt excitement since she was a toddler. That same radiant wonder shines through her eyes as they ride the floating landmass up into the clouds, and pass through the protective barrier into the city. The platform jostles slightly as it comes to a halt, and Casta's hand grips tighter around his shirtsleeve. He feels a surge of protectiveness in his chest, matched only by the joy of seeing the rolling violet hills and soaring gold spires for himself. It is Castaspella's first time away from home, but for Micah it feels like returning home after a long absence.

Things were difficult for a while, after the Light Spinner incident, and 5th year he'd even considered dropping out altogether. But there was always Cas waiting for him at home, reminding him that being a sorcerer is the most wonderful gift one can be given, and it's his duty to hone his talents, if not for himself than to protect his sister from the brewing war, especially since their parents died. She inspires him in ways he could never imagine when he was only thirteen, and she was just turning four. Next year he is sure he will be invited to join the Guild as a full fledged sorcerer, and he will stay in Mystacor, making sure Casta is watched over and protected in a way he never was. They may even give him Light Spinners old study, since they’ve all but forgotten about it and he’s pretty much already moved in.

They hardly see each other in the first week of fall term. Micah is too busy with his duties as a 7th year prefect and his role as a peer mentor to the 5th years who are just choosing their specialties, and Casta is caught up in the torrent of excitement of her first year as an official sorcerer-in-training. When things do settle down though, he takes her to his favorite spot on the beach, and they eat dinner together, watching the clouds turn pink and purple and dusky grey-blue in the evening light. Castaspella is less outgoing than he was as a first year, but she is kind and amicable and has already made several friends, some even one or two grades above her. _It's good to make friends with upperclassmen,_  she explains,  _they know where all the cool places to hang out and study are._

Micah stands then, brushing sand from his trousers, and asks her if she'd like to see a really cool study spot, that none of her friends will know about. Casta's eyes shine with glee, and he can feel the anticipation radiating off of her as he leads the way to the North Corridor, where Light Spinner's study waits for him. They are cutting dangerously close to curfew, but the hall is deserted, and he is well liked enough among the staff that neither him nor his sister should encounter any trouble. He slides the key into place, excited to share this sacred space with her, but Casta hangs back.  _I don’t want to go in there,_ she says,  _my friends told me that’s where Light Spinner used to have her lessons. It’s haunted._

It shocks him to hear her name on Casta's lips, especially after so many years of faculty and students alike not daring to speak it in front of him.  _Where did you hear about Light Spinner?_

_Everyone knows the stories._ Micah raises his eyebrows, silently urging her to elaborate and Casta huffs, crossing her arms over her chest in a childish parody of exasperation.  _She was so hungry for power she killed the Head Sorcerer, and was banished for it. But instead of leaving she chose to become a shadow, stalking the halls in secret and waiting to take her revenge._ At this he catches her shivering, so subtle that only someone who’s known her all her life can pick up on it, and the deep-seated fear it suggests.

He sighs, withdrawing the key and returning it to the safety of his front pocket. Then he turns away from the door, beckoning his sister forward.  _Come with me,_ he says,  _there’s something I want to show you._

The Hall of Sorcerers is dark, and nearly empty now that classes are over for the evening. Casta gasps as she gazes down the line of towering statues-- lurid as polished silver in the moonlight-- and Micah smiles to himself, remembering that same feeling of awe when he traversed this hallway for the first time in his third year. If it weren’t for him bringing her here, Castaspella likely wouldn’t have seen it at all until much later, since the first and second year dorms as well as most of their classes were sequestered to the East Wing. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed introducing his little sister to things for the first time. When they reach Light Spinner, he halts her with both hands on her shoulders and turns her around to face the chiseled stone. _What do you see?_

She shrugs. _It’s just a statue. How did it get all messed up like that?_

He ignores her question, the fury he’d once felt now as foreign to him as the world beyond the floating city. _That’s Light Spinner._ Casta’s eyes widen as they travel up the charred façade. _She wasn’t some power hungry monster, or a vengeful ghost. Just a person who made a lot of bad calls._

Casta glances at him, brow still furrowed with uncertainty. She’s much more serious than he was at eleven.  _That’s not what everybody else says._

Micah shakes his head, releasing his grasp on her to stroke his beard thoughtfully. _Monsters are easier to understand than our own flaws._ How many times had the same stories been repeated to him, by his peers and mentors alike? None of them knew Light Spinner like he did, none of them were close enough to feel her kindness, hear her laughter, understand how much she cared. Before the spell of obtainment infected her, she was just a regular sorcerer. She was human. He takes a deep breath and adds,  _people won’t acknowledge that she was just like them, because then they’d have to admit they could end up just like her._

_Could I end up just like her?_ Casta’s dark eyes are large and pleading, and her raw, innocent fear twists his gut. She’s so talented and whip smart, so fiercely independent that he often forgets his sister is still very much a kid. He’s always wanted to be as candid as possible with her, unlike their parents were, but taking care of a child when you’ve only just left your own childhood is more than daunting, and Micah constantly worries he’ll say the wrong thing.

As always, he settles for the truth. _That’s up to you,_ he says. She nods, and he holds her gaze for a long time, wanting Casta feel the full weight of his words. At thirteen he was gifted, but lacking in patience and discipline. Nobody could have told him to temper his hunger, it was a lesson he had to learn for himself. He wants her to do better than him-- so much so his heart seizes-- but he can only offer his wisdom. His sister will have to make her own choices.

Light Spinner put on a good show of admonishing him, but she sought him out and made him her charge all the same. They’d been kindred spirits-- her impatience with the Guild enabled his own, as well as her qualmless willingness to sneak around, ignore the rules, and overstep boundaries that were in place for their own protection. There was no way for him to know better, but Light Spinner should have. Ironic that he’d learned more from her mistakes and subsequent failures than from any of her lectures. Micah glances to the right of Light Spinner, where the statue of Master Norwyn still stands, pristine and placid. There’s a lot to be learned from his mistakes too.  _Hapless old geezers_ he’d called them, and although he learned to accept their views on power and corruption, he can see how Light Spinner was justified in her frustration. When he joins the Guild, things will be different. He will pay attention.

Casta is still gazing up at the figures, lost in thought, and Micah knows with certainty that when the school year is over, neither of them will be going back to their small village. He’ll join the Guild, and take on his own apprentices, even teach Casta if she wants it. And maybe someday their effigies will join the others, crowns of starlight circling their heads. He lays his hand on Castaspella’s shoulder, squeezing tight, and she smiles that radiant gap-toothed smile that makes his heart swell with determination.  _Don’t worry Cas,_ he says,  _Mystacor is our home now_.  _Even if she does return someday, I’ll always be here to protect you._

//

**Author's Note:**

> So uh, Mystacor is like Hogwarts right?? I never actually attended school I just read a lot of Harry Potter, and all the ages in here are only speculation because Noelle Stevenson won’t respond to my emails, so feel free to correct/nitpick/tell me about your own speculations in the commentos


End file.
